A Certain Warlock Was Invited to the Game of Thrones
by 0ldMonk
Summary: Never invite a Warlock to a Game. After all, his magic shall invalid the Rules. Even more so for a certain Warlock as his Miracle will shape the world after his own Rules. Follow our Lelouch while he spread his shenanigans on Planetos.
1. Prologue

**Preface:**

 _Muse-chan was pregnant the whole time with another round of bunnies. You know where this does leads. As you already guessed, I thought what would Lelouch do in Game of Thrones. I admit, I read other works in that vein, but they did not have that itch which would need to be scratched, unfortunately._

 _My old teacher once said: If your fantasy wasn't written, write it.  
_

 _Which I did. Here it goes._

 _Of course, don't worry, my **House Lannister Rise in Calradia** **will continue**. A common writer's block._

 _Now onto the meat._

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 _ **Lelouch Lamperouge (or Lelouch vi Britannia)** is the perfect description of an **Anti-Hero**._

 _He's another complex character who had, you could say, **daddy issues** , but unlike Tywin Lannister, he hated his father, not because of his image alone._

 _He **despised his father** for these reasons:_

 _1\. His father did not care about his sister, Nunnally, even referring to her as a useless cripple._

 _2\. He believed that his father had a hand on the murder of his mother, Marianne._

 _3\. His father sent them both (Lelouch and Nunnally) to their death to Imperial Japan._

 _4\. After he discovered his father's ambition(Ragnarok), he did everything in his might to destroy it(Commanding the World of C with his Geass)._

 _Lelouch was young as his mother was murdered which brought to his emotional outburst in front of the Emperor. Conclusion: He and his sister were exiled out of the imperial court and married off to Japan as Hostage. Unfortunately, direct after the Holy Empire of Britannia invaded the country and since then colonized it as Area 11.  
_

 _He promised vengeance against them, especially his father. **His grudge ran deep.**  
_

 _In his earlier years, his showed his brilliance in form of winning chess matches against his siblings. The only sibling he could not win against was Schneizel li Britannia whom he took a draw._

 _Of course, **being brilliant at chess** is one thing. To no surprise, after he got some McGuffin a la Geass (although, he had honestly a plan in motion without the use of Geass), he integrated himself to a Japanese (or as the purist would say: eleven) resistance group. As a **charming master** **strategist** , he convinced the group to his banner: The Black Knights (they were like the modern Robin Hood). **He knew theatrics, he was in his appearance melodramatic.**  
_

 _His **obsession with chess** shows in his callsigns for the various 'pieces' like Q1 etcetera._

 _He **never trained physically** which showed in his body as he's easily exhausted._

 _You could say, he was a certain **type of genius** which even excelled academically._

 _Of course, if you have seen the anime, you could say **he was a** siscon **or at least very overprotective of his sister** which makes sense after all she was blind and couldn't use her legs at all._

 _Later, his goal changed to that of destroying Holy Empire of Britannia (although he destroyed its foundation) to destroy the world and remake it after his own (playing the monster for the Hero to slay)._

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 **Disclaimer:**

 _1\. The character Lelouch Lamperouge (Lelouch vi Britannia) and the world of Code Geass are trademarked by Sunrise who delivered us the wonderful anime.  
_

 _2\. The world of Game of Thrones is trademarked by HBO._

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 **Punishment**

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A ceremonial sword, a sword made for rituals of the nobility, a class of parasites, plunged deep into his stomach. The finely polished blade gleamed in the sun on the horizon as it went through his body and out of his back, coating the blade red. Blood dyed his white garb deep red while he stared at the visor of his executioner, seeing his violet eyes giving way to red birds flapping.

"L-Lelouch," said his executioner in a whisper as cold enveloped his body.

"You, too, will bear the burden" - Lelouch slumped forward - "as an ally of justice, the mask will be your only face."

Lelouch's right hand brushed against the visor, marking it. "You'll sacrifice everything for the world."

"This Geass I accept."

The sword which held him in place was pulled out. His last support lost, he fell down the ramp, sliding it till his body rested on the ground.

"Brother?" He turned his head slightly to the side and could recognize the blurry frame of his dear sister. He felt her hands touching him as his eyes failed him.

He couldn't hear what his sister said, yet he fought hard to open his mouth. "I-I'm going to... destroy... the world... and recr-"

The heat burned on his pale skin all the while the sand tortured his feet, causing him to grimace with every step as he followed the dark man. He wasn't the only one behind him as there were others also chained to the slaver.

The chain rattled as one of his fellow slaves collapsed. The march halted. The slaver spat to the ground as he unsheathed his sword and strode to the slave on the ground. He kicked the slave, getting no reaction, he brought down the sword. Blood spurted out of the wound, pooling around the body as the slave died.

Lelouch averted his eyes at the sight, trying to ignore the uneasiness while he held back the bile that threatened to rise. Fortunately, the march continued through the desert.

His mind went back to the very first day he awoke in these strange primitive lands. His eyelids snapped wide open as a wet cold cloth touched his face. A little girl had her eyebrows furrowed as she travelled with the cloth through his whole body. Abruptly, he sprang into motion, trying to stand up but to no avail as pain enveloped his body.

He laid there, hearing the gibberish of the girl, some unknown language. With a shake of his head, he tried to tell her that he couldn't understand anything she said to which she just nodded albeit hesitantly.

His hands went to his chest, running down his stomach, trying to feel the wound, yet there was nothing as if he was never stabbed. It puzzled him. He loathed it absolutely. To not know things. It grated on him, the unknown variables.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly, waking him out from his circling thoughts. He noticed. His breathing was too shallow. Hyperventilation. A panic attack with other words.

He closed his eyes, focusing on calming his breathing while he ignored his surroundings. The distant noises faded away.

He was mortally wounded. He was stabbed by his friend, Suzaku. His conclusion thus was: He died or should have. Yet he didn't appear to be dead. Perhaps this was a lie. He could be in the Purgatory. Although he was never a religious person, the collective human unconsciousness could be seen as the God. This train of thought would lead him to...

Lelouch paused. The conclusion was obvious at this point. The World of C was a bridge to the afterlife which meant that he entered the World of C after he died.

His sensitive eyes opened once more and were instantly greeted painfully by the brightness. He flinched as he snapped them shut again. He took a deep breath and let his eyes adjust to the light while the girl's hand ruffled his hair in a comforting manner he assumed.

If this was the afterlife, where was Euphemia?

Instead, he sighed in defeat. He threw these useless thoughts in the farthest corner of his mind.

"Who are you?" She scrunched her nose, appearing like the cute girl she was, the bewilderment all too obvious for him, so he pointed at himself and said, "Lelouch." He repeated his name for some time until her face brightened as she got the gist.

"Melisandre." A strange, unfamiliar name. Foreign definitely as its origin was of French.

Well, it would be impossible to assume that the dead souls would speak only in English. Yet, the strange words she spoke wasn't anywhere near French, vulgar Latin.

Surely, the World of C wouldn't have diverse language as it seemed to him very bizarre indeed. Another unknown variable.

As he felt the pain lose on intensity, he used his left arm to prop himself up, almost failing because of pain, but he gritted his teeth and follow through. Ah, pain receptors were working overtime. They should've vacations. Surely, the World of C should have cancelled his pain, yet it was real enough, the pain at least.

He never imagined his vacation under the tender care of a little girl, but whatever floated the collective human unconsciousness' boat.

Wait a moment. Was his unconsciousness screwing with his head?

After all, the collective human unconsciousness would include himself too. That really put the whole situation on another level. Did he have a fetish for little sister types? He was convinced that he was not a paedophile at all.

Melisandre said something unknown, yet he could understand the worry in her tone. He was too still which scared her obviously. To calm her down, he gave her a smile which he always did to his friend Rivalz if his friend happened to notice his uneasiness. Another mask he wore to hide his ugly nature.

Was he not dead already? Why did he need to hide? Lelouch vi Britannia. The Demon Emperor. The truth was known to them.

His sigh raised the worry of Melisandre, yet he couldn't help it. Too many conflicting things. Thus he deduced: Either he was in hell, literally or he was not dead; disproving his earlier conclusion.

"Let's assume nothing," muttered Lelouch as his thoughts raced.

Waking up in an unfamiliar location. Cause: Unknown.

He ignored the words Melisandra spoke as he couldn't even understand them.

With his body in perfect condition as if he was never impaled by a sword. Cause: Unknown.

Not understanding the strange language the girl, with a French name, spoke. Cause: Unknown.

"Conclusion: Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." Apparently, Auric Goldfinger was onto something.

So he assumed rightly that something fishy was going on. He couldn't be dead and alive. Yet... His train of thoughts paused.

Dead and alive. Schroedinger's cat. The thought experiment about the interpretation of quantum mechanics.

Could it be that he died? And thus was alive. Did he have his father's code? Impossible, yet... very possible.

But if he died and was found alive by someone, wouldn't there be an outcry unless... the girl, Melisandre, could not recognize him as the Demon Emperor. Certainly, he could be in a remote village without access to the wider world.

Although his gut feeling told him otherwise, he trusted his reasoning more than mere instincts, hilarious enough going against the Moscow Rules.

So that meant it would not be long before someone would recognize him and destroy all the sacrifices he did for a better world so Nunnally could inherit it.

His next course of actions thus: Kill himself somewhere remote to hide his corpse.

No, it wouldn't be enough to hide his identity. He could try burning himself completely. Unfortunately, it would only destroy his fingerprints which weren't enough anyway, after all, there were methods which could identify the person with only the teeth.

Alright, the strategy would be thus:

First, his teeth needed to be completely erased. Smashing would not help.

Second, he needed to burn himself to death.

Third, he hoped he was not immortal at all.

Difficulty: Relatively high as the risk was that he would be recognized before he could destroy every evidence of himself. And to procure the tools for his death... It would be difficult, but he worked with less.

Lelouch would need to fight against time. A smirk adorned his face at the thought of playing again. This time his opponent was harder to best, yet the thought of winning spurned him on. Although in the deepest dungeon of his mind, he was worried about his status being alive as it would flip the peaceful world, he created for Nunnally, upside down.

Only the last two questions needed to be addressed: Who carried his body this far? More information was needed. Did he still have his Geass? He could test it.

"Lelouch vi Britannia commands you to tell me where I am." He did not see the telltale sign of his Geass awakening in her eyes as she spoke in her language. Her confusion aside, his Geass did not work or it vanished.

It could be a fluke so he would need to test it on more than one person.

Wait. Even if his Geass was successful, would he even understand the person if he couldn't understand the language at all? Unfortunately, he never tested his Geass on a human whom he could not understand.

Screams shook him out of his thoughts as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. The girl's eyes widened laced with despair while the heavy pounding of horses closed.

Horses? What could it possibly be? And these screams...

"P-Please! M-Mercy!" He shuddered at the yell which was full of despair. The screams ceased. His body went cold. With a sense of foreboding, he stood up, ignoring the diminishíng pain as he hobbled to the wooden door.

His sweaty palms touched the wooden material and pushed.

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 **Author's Note:**

 _A third season was announced. Honestly, I don't like the notion at all, I mean the ending of season 2 was fine for me. And even had a certain mysterious open ending flair which I liked.  
_


	2. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

 _I had much fun researching the languages people spoke in Game of Thrones, be it Dothraki language or High Valyrian and so on._

 _Well, Lelouch is a genius so be prepared to fall on your knees when he uses his intellect._

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 **Awakening**

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With a gasp, he awoke amidst the tumult while feeling the pain from the kick of the slaver. It shook again. He couldn't hold back the bile which rose with vengeance as another tremble caught them. He fell down to his knees as the contents of his stomach exploded out of his mouth.

Pain coursed through his body as the slaver lashed him. He ignored the putrid stench as he curled up in a ball as another lash hit him.

He glanced to the side as a small hand helped him up. What a pathetic display for the Demon Emperor who once told the world to fuck off.

He couldn't understand her whisper, but her expression told him what she meant. Yet, he wasn't optimistic at all. He discarded all his conclusion, but the belief that he was dead. It was his own hell. Being a slave while the girl, Melisandre, was torturing his psyche with her innocence like a true little sister.

He should have seen that coming, after all, the blood of the innocent masses coated his very hands. He sacrificed thousands for his own ambition.

He would never regret the actions he did, but the Geass on his first love, Euphemia. A mistake he could not undo. The guilt plagued him since then.

Perhaps this all was a mirror of his guilt. He could see it. He was a slave to his Geass.

His chain rattled as he pushed the oar forward, pausing a little then pulling it backwards in synchronization with the other rowers. The menial task exhausted him fast enough. His body might seem perfectly fine, but it was his body which never accumulated muscle mass.

His nerves screamed as he continued to push and pull without pause. A boring physical labour for which his body was not made for.

His thoughts went back to the day he opened the gates of hell; an apt metaphor for him as it seemed that this world mirrored his own psyche.

The wooden door opened with a loud creak as he stepped out and froze at the incomprehensible sight. Half naked men who rode on horses were gathering the villagers into a crowd. The threatening moon-shaped, curved blades - resembled the Egyptian Khopesh - herded the poor men, woman and even children.

His sight landed on a dead woman protecting her child not far. His legs trembled, yet he soldiered on.

He heard them yelling and shouting at him. One of them rode to him, waved the blade threatening to him as he pointed to the crowd.

Possible strategy: Use diplomacy. Unfortunately, he couldn't understand the language they spoke.

He instantly discarded the thought of running away. How should he even accomplish that without a vehicle or a horse?

Lelouch obeyed as he walked with the little girl in tow to the crowd.

Who were these riders? If he took their appearance at face value, it would mean this was a primitive region, so primitive in fact that one could shoot a documentary about medieval times.

The goal of these riders would be to pillage the village if he got the setting right. That wasn't an optimistic thought at all. As that would mean raping the fairer sex and killing off all males.

Or... enslaving them all. His hot fury burned in him as the sun took her pleasure to mark his skin red. He could feel his hands clenching into fists, yet he took a deep breath before he could do something very foolish and dumb.

If it would come to a fight, what were his possible assets?

His Geass which he did not know if it could work on them or anyone for that matter.

If he assumed that his body was indeed immortal like his father, he could fight for eternity even after his limbs were cut. After all, even fingers could be used to kill someone, more so when the enemies had no visible armour.

Rallying the fellow villagers was possible, yet difficult as the very visible fear dominated their pale faces. He admitted that he could charm crowds, but this level of fear he never saw in anyone ever which was even beyond him.

Again, too many unknown variables. A strategy built upon these unknowns was bad as the shoddy foundation would easily collapse after the reveal of the variables. He got smacked in the face once he followed a plan without calculating the unknowns. It hurt. He learned through the pain as every Homo Sapien would have.

But first another test for his Geass. He grabbed the arm of a man standing beside him, getting his attention as he was staring at the man. He held eye contact as he said, "Tell me who they are." The man shook his head.

Conclusion: Suicide without his Geass. And he was not sure if he was immortal at all. In other words, he wasn't battle ready at all.

That didn't bode well at all, but perhaps he could at least get the information through old pantomime. He pointed at the riders, trying to get his question across which it did as the man answered curtly, "Dothraki." His voice cracked with fear.

Well, he never signed for a vacation anyway.

How interesting, the other riders referred to the one with the longer braided beard. It could be a primitive way to mark their hierarchy similar to a modern army whose soldiers would have military insignia on the shoulders.

The whispers died away as riders surrounded them. Silence greeted the leader as he shouted something in another language. He motioned with his blade, presumably to follow him.

Lelouch scowled, smoothed it to neutral frown as he grabbed the hand of Melisandre, comforting her with a smile while he squeezed a little. The big brother he could play very well.

He would wait until a better opportunity presented itself. On the other hand, he did not want to wander blindly, so information gathering was his highest priority. The language barrier would be a problem, but he wasn't a genius for nothing. The chains were temporary that he knew, after all, he rose to be the greatest Evil the world had seen with the chains of Charles zi Britannia.

The feat he could easily replicate again.

"Lelouch."

He glanced down at the girl who held his hand with an iron grip, fearing he would vanish into nothingness.

Lelouch could only smile self-deprecating at the whole situation.

"Melisandre." She looked at him with curious eyes. "One." He wriggled the index finger at her and repeated the number.

It took a while and some repetition until she answered confidently, "Mēre."

Fortunately, these primitive savages - what else could it be as they didn't even clothe themselves like civilized humans - ignored them completely.

"Two." He showed her two of his fingers to which she responded with, "Lanta."

Oh well, it would take time to soak up the knowledge of the foreign language, but his genius intellect could compensate for it.

And so they continued to play the numbers game.

"Three." Three of his fingers.

"Hāre."

"Four." Four of his five fingers.

"Izula."

"Five." He showed her his left hand who was free of her grip.

"Tōma."

"Six." He showed her his palm open. "Tōma." Then clenched into a fist and struck his index finger out.

"Bȳre."

"Seven." This time he struck two fingers.

"Sīkuda."

"Eight." He struck three fingers out.

"Jēnqa."

"Nine." Four fingers.

"Vōre."

"Ten." He opened his palm once. "Tōma." Then closed and opened it again.

"Ampa."

For the eleven he got, "Mēre ampā." He jumped to fifteen and she said, reciting it from memory, "Tōma ampā."

He used the same means to get the word for twenty in the foreign language.  
Lelouch smirked as he deduced the number system from one to ninety-nine.

He recited one to twenty. After all, one only needed to know one to nine. After that, the tens were formed by prefixing the ēpsa with the numbers from one to nine, replacing the characters a and e explicitly like for example, "Two is Lanta. Twenty is Lantēpsa." It followed the same schema, but of course, the ten was unique with, "Ampa."  
Now that he had the tens, he could use that to deduce the rest which made twenty-three, "Hāre lantēpsa." The numbers one to nine would come before the tens place.

Well, ninety-nine was, "Vōre vōrēpsa." But to continue he would need to know the hundred and other numbers over the hundred to get the pattern.

He said to her, "Vōre vōrēpsa. Mēre." She got a confused look, so he repeated it.

She furrowed her brows, probably having difficulties to get the word for a big number. It took some time but she finally answered, "Gār."

If he took the assumption that it followed the same rules, one hundred and one would be, "Gār mēre or Mēre gār mēre." The one hundred and ten would be ampa gār, one hundred and twenty would be gār lantēpsa, one hundred and twenty-five would be gār tōma lantēpsa. Relatively straightforward from his perspective. The hundreds place was indicated by saying the single digits before the gār like that, "Two hundred and thirty-two is Lanta gār lanta hārēpsa."

The rules would be thus: The hundreds place before the ones and at last the tens. Instead of one hundred and twenty-three, it would be one hundred and three twenty.

Interestingly, it resembled the German rules for numbers like for one hundred and twenty-three, in German, it would be einhundertdreiundzwanzig. If he separated them: ein-hundert-drei-zwanzig which would be mēre gār hāre lantēpsa.

Lelouch smirked smugly at her incredulous look at him. He was a genius after all.

He pointed at a woman and said, "Woman." And pointed at the man beside her while saying, "Man." This he repeated with him and Melisandre.

Fortunately, she wasn't so slow as he feared, instead it took her only less than four minutes till she answered, pointing with her small finger at him, "Vala" - Her finger moved to herself - "Abra."

The savages took them all to a camp, he assumed as he could see the huts made out of straws and some individually tents out of animal skins. Many similar savages followed by a gaggle of slaves. These people were slaves. His deduction was based on the body language they emitted to their masters; being totally submissive and having the look of fear. His stomach didn't like that at all. Furthermore, he hated enslavement. He fought against the complete enslavement of the Japanese people by the Holy Empire of Britannia.

With a grim look, he followed the obvious distraught crowd of villagers until the leader halted and was greeted by another savage rider.

"Akkelenak... alle..." He tried to listen to the unfamiliar words, but the rest he could not hear as the voices were lowered to a whisper.

The apparent leader turned to them and shouted, "Dohaeriros." His blade was pointed at them. He glanced at Melisandre whose eyes were wide, too wide. He asked, "Dohaeriros?" Her trembling finger pointed at one of the slaves. Enslavement.

The savage warriors chose some villager, mostly female ones like they were cattle on the market. He squeezed her little soft hand as another warrior had his sights on the girl.

A precarious situation for her. She would be raped by these savages. He could never let that occur.

So what could he do? His mind went into overdrive; his praised intellect analysed the information he gathered up till now.

The culture of these warriors was that of strength obviously. A duel perhaps. A duel for the right of the girl. Even if the chance were slim at best, it was possible. And he took much greater risk in his life.

The problem: How would he challenge them without knowing the language needed for communication?

Wait. They understood a little of the language - the little girl spoke in. Which meant he could communicate, yet his vocabulary was ridiculously low.

Perhaps he could simplify the meaning of duel with the numbers.

He pointed with his finger at the sauntering warrior and said, "Mēre" - then his finger pointed at himself - "Mēre." The warrior halted his stride, looking at him with a queer look.

"Lanta vala," he said, "mēre abra." A duel in other terms: 1 versus 1. Two men for one girl. Classical.

The warrior laughed, getting the attention of other warriors. One of them asked him to which he told them. They all laughed.

Until the warrior who he challenged to a duel, took out his crescent moon-shaped blade and said, "Arakh." He waved the blade and pointed at it. Lelouch understood. The weapon was called Arakh. He didn't have one.

He shook his head. The warrior called out to his friends who crowded around them, struck with curiosity. One of them took his Arakh out and threw it in front of his feet.

Well, at least he had a weapon to fight.

He let go of Melisandre and stepped forward.

As Lelouch crouched, he gripped the handle of the Arakh hard enough for him to feel pain, many thoughts raced in his mind.

How good was his opponent? His eyes wandered to the crowd and seeing obvious betting going on. Many pointed at him which was interesting. He could assume that he had fair odds if some bet on him.

Ah, he was a man of culture, after all, he was a gambler. This time he would gamble on his body. Well, not really. He had a possible strategy in mind.

After all, they were in a desert with enough sand to fill his pockets. Before he stood up, he waved the Arakh in front of him, distracting everyone with his pathetic display while his other hand grabbed a pile of sand.

The first condition was set.

He moved to a position with his back to the sun.

Second condition set.

Such curved blades weren't made for fighting on foot which meant thrusting with it would be foolish, yet unexpected. Although, he had no armour which meant his opponent would only need to slash at him. The shape of the Arakh could also be used to hook.

These characteristics of the weapon could be used to win the duel.

His strategy would be to try to blind his opponent with the side of the blade at first. Then he would use that blind spot to move forward to throw sand into his opponent's eyes. That would get him very close. Of course, the reaction of his opponent would be a wild slash he could already predict.

That would be the third condition.

If he could either dodge it or hook the blade, he would go in for the kill. A punch would disorient his opponent which meant he could unhook the blade and slash at him. But if he could dodge successfully the slash, he could finish the duel in one motion.

A tall order for him who detested physical training and all that. Lelouch seriously contemplated praying to god, but his decision was taken from him as the warrior screamed a great war cry, obviously trying to intimidate him.

Lelouch chuckled a little as he prepared to set his conditions off.

His opponent rushed to no surprise as he already predicted it. With a little turn of his right wrist, the blade was touched by the sun and assailed the eyes of the rushing fool who closed them in reflex. He sprang into motion. Five steps forward. Another five steps before he would be in the range of the Arakh. Another slight turn of his wrist and his opponent halted his rush. Another five steps. Lelouch was in range to slash so also was his opponent.

Before the warrior could get a calculated strike at him, he threw the sand to his eyes, blinding him for his next actions. The wild slash in panic, which he saw coming miles away, yet he, unfortunately, couldn't dodge it as his feet were in a bad position. A dodge would get him killed. Instead, he used his own Arakh to hook it with ease. He punched with as much force as he could muster at his opponent's face, stunning him for a short moment which he used to move his Arakh up. With a great cry, he slashed down, aiming at the vulnerable throat. The fool couldn't block it in time.

The jugular vein was cut, it opened with a deep gash and spurted out the red liquid as the body fell down the ground with a dull noise.

His audience obviously speechless. That was the hardest workout he had since Suzaku forced him to run laps around the school. He smirked at the thought of seeing his friend's face. Suzaku would indeed be very surprised.

The moment of surprise lasted only seconds before all cheered him, be it the savages or the slaves. A barbaric culture who trusted in the strength of arms.

The cheering stopped and the crowd parted like water in front of Mose as another warrior on his horse with others behind, trotted to him. Lelouch could recognize a leader based on his mere presence alone, although the braid helped his deduction.

The taller body of the leader covered the sun. A mere ploy to cower him. He held the stare, not in the slightest intimidated after all he destroyed a world. In this primitive culture, cowards would be disdained and with such in mind, he prepared for a long stare, ignoring the itch to blink.

The apparent leader nodded at him, perhaps in respect or acknowledgement, he did not know.

"Najahak!" Another rouse of cheer. Surely, it meant winner in the language of the Dothraki as it seemed that all the warriors understood the spoken word.

"Ao vīlībagon sȳrī." Lelouch couldn't make much headway as his knowledge was limited at best, however, he deduced that it was a high praise from this leader. His mind went to analyse the sentence. Ao was a pronoun, that much he knew. In this case, he was addressed. Sȳrī was something like well or good. That would mean: You vīlībagon well.

It was clear as the sky with the context. The sentence was translated to: You fought well.

Lelouch bowed his head, acknowledging the high praise like a proper samurai, he imagined, would do.

"Ao issi hen layak ānogar." Again, the singular pronoun: you. Issi would be the predicate in this sentence. If he was told true, the word hen would be a preposition while ānogar meant blood.

You issi hen layak ānogar. You issi hen layak blood. You issi from/of layak blood. You are from/of layak blood.

The word layak - from the Dothraki language - would mean fighter in this context.

The sentence would roughly translate to: You are of fighter's blood. A statement of observation or something more.

"Layak!" The Dothraki leader yelled out. His men followed suit, chanting the word. The noise grated on his ears and got his pride to eat the delicious praise from the warrior caste. It got his blood pumping at least.

The leader held the Arakh up, silencing the crowd as he said, "Ao issi issa layak." You are my fighter. An invitation to his band of savages.

Lelouch raised his voice a little as he asked, "Riñītsos?" He pointed at Melisandre with the blade.

"Aōhon." The girl was his.

He agreed. "Nyke aōha layak." Nyke was the first person singular pronoun. The word aōha was derived from ao. Translation: I am your fighter.

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His butt didn't like the uncomfortable ride on the willful horse he had. Unfortunately, he was a Dothraki; a horse rider. Only slaves walked on foot. That was the basis of the Dothraki culture - trying too hard to be Mongols.

It did give him much leeway in the possession of slaves like the little girl, Melisandre. At least, she was safe from harm. He detested slavery as it reminded him too much of Britannia.

Another battle against a Khal - the Dothraki warlord - who outnumbered their little war party.  
He tried to convince the Khal of this foolishness but was rebuffed and called a filkak; the greatest insult one could get. He sneered at them. Cowardism, it wasn't as if they would face a horde two times greater theirs. Of course, Lelouch could easily mop the floor with the enemy horde if his advice wouldn't be ignored by the Khal.

Morons. These savages were all idiots of the highest order. They all thought the greater they cry, the stronger the horde would be. What a fool.

His Khal shouted, "Vīlībagon!" Fight. Yes, fight all to the death, fools.

Instead of following the Khal into charging uselessly the enemy, he turned back and rode to where the camp was.

The slaves saw him riding to them, obviously confused while others paled considerably. Either, he deserted or the battle was lost. He already predicted that the Khal would lose the battle, so both would be true.

"Melisandre!" The mentioned little girl ran to him. He gave her his right hand which she grabbed as he pulled her up. She was a clever girl who could guess what happened.

He rode until the night broke. As he prepared the campfire, he heard a suspicious noise behind him, getting him very tense. He pulled his Arakh out as he closed on Melisandre who was fearing the noises.

Lelouch saw them. Armed men. Bandits or slavers, he didn't know. A bad situation ahead. He couldn't fight his way out. Too many and his skills weren't that great at all, he wasn't a Suzaku.

Damn.

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The weather calmed down as a command was shouted out. He stopped rowing as others did the same, catching a break. He glanced to the left and saw how exhausted Melisandre was. His breathing was a little shallow, but his time in the Dothraki horde helped him immensely.

"You there! The girl! Come!" Lelouch saw the look the slaver gave Melisandre; it flipped his stomach. His fingers gripped the oar hard enough for his nails to bore in it. He should have expected this situation.

What could he do without a weapon? Pretty much actually.

If he could rush the slaver, he could overwhelm him. After that, he would need to initiate a slave revolt which would be very well in his bag of tricks. He was the man who broke the Japenese resistance and moulded them into his Black Knights.

As Melisandre stood up, glancing at him with a look of dismay, he also stood up. He wasted no time to rush the slaver who didn't expect that.

Both of them crashed into the ground. He punched the slaver as he tried to pry the sword out of his hand. A mistake as the slaver just used a hidden dagger to stab him.

His body gave way and slumped down. He felt the hands of Melisandre, shaking him. Yet everything was blurry.

"Come little slut!" He heard her cries.

Lelouch gasped as he felt his body again. His eyes landed on the slaver who grabbed hold onto Melisandre's hair. He stood slowly up, terrifying the slaver who trembled as he tried to step backwards.

He lunged at the slaver and bit off his neck. He spat the disgusting piece of meat out while the slaver fell down and bled to death.

His fellow slavers were watching. One of them, a woman, stood up and yelled, "Azor Ahai!" Others chants followed.

Who the hell was Azor Ahai?!

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 **Author's Note:**

 _I hope as ever I did the character of Lelouch justice. And I also hope you weren't confused at all what with the vocabulary of High Valyrian. There are of course some online translator, but I used the official wiki more for understanding the structure etcetera._


	3. Spartacus

**Author's Note:**

 _With the comments, be it the private ones or the public reviews, in mind, I wrote the chapter. Thanks for the feedback. Now have fun reading the chapter.  
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 **Spartacus**

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As it appeared, he was immortal. A code bearer like the Witch who contracted him. She would cackle madly at his misfortune. The Witch whose addiction to pizza got him many headaches would make jokes about his title alone. After all, he was a Warlock who now could create miracles in the same vein similar to the prophets of old. He wasn't so arrogant to believe he could challenge god, however, he could actually bestow the Geass unto mortals.

His violet eyes swung to the tattoed woman who called him Azor Ahai; a strange title for sure. Another title to his already growing collection of admittingly impressive titles: Warlock, The Demon Emperor and now Azor Ahai whatever it meant.

His curiosity could not be curbed as the fire was already lit. "Azor Ahai?" His dry tongue tasted the strange words with no familiarity to the roots of High Valyrian.

"When the Mele qēlos bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst ōrbar se lopor to wake Zaldrīzes out of stone." At least, she could speak Dothraki. The High Valyrian was a problem, he could perhaps solve with little hints.

"Mele qēlos?" At his questioning look, she pointed at Melisandre's hair, then high up. Mele could be the colour adjective, and if the hair colour of Melisandre wasn't a hint, it meant red. Red qēlos. She did point up. The only thing he could think of was the sky. Red sky could fit.

He asked, "ōrbar se lopor?" He stopped her before she could answer, with a single motion of his hand.

As interesting as it was to learn something new, they needed to hurry up. It wouldn't be long before the slavers noticed something wrong and stopped the slave revolt in its infancy. He did not fancy himself a Spartacus, his mediocre fighting abilities aside, he wouldn't want to be crucified.

He observed the standing slaves who looked certainly determined and even with a hint of religious fervour as if Azor Ahai was some prophet to die for.

Lelouch's smirk couldn't be wiped off his face at the sight of just barely twenty slaves under his command while possible hundreds of slavers  
threatened to destroy him. A cornered animal was a dangerous one. A religious one more so.

What fancy odds he had. Slavers with the possibility of having combat training. However as he observed some of his fellow revolters' posture, he could guess that some of them had seen combat or were trained. These men and women didn't vomit at the sight of the corpse - missing a chunk of its neck - like the others.

Lelouch chuckled to the surprise, startling them. He worked with less and more unfavourable odds. Admittingly, he had his Geass - the power of absolute obedience - to compensate for much, but that wasn't what marked him if one would ask his Black Knights.

He turned to the corpse, a dark man in something similar to Linothorax, reminiscent of the famous Greek armours he saw in the museum he visited often with his sister. The term was a direct description of the armour; meaning wearing a breastplate of linen.

His sight landed on the only dark slave in his group. That would work. After all, the surprise was on his side. To defeat a numerically superior army, the maxim dīvide et imperā was the key to divide a massive concentration of force into weak separate forces and apply numerical superior force to these weak spots in the armour of the enemy to rule them. If he understood the slavers' mentally right, it would mean that for every twenty or more slaves, one or two guards would watch them without fearing a revolt.

Ruling through fear could only take one so far until hope bloomed in the darkest pit of hell. As it seemed, he was this very hope. A Spartacus in the making, the crucify aside, a man who could match his wits with Roman generals and his slave army with the iron legions of Res publica Romana, the Roman Republic, the mightiest of all civilizations aside from the Han Empire of ancient China.

He was Zero, the Commander of the Black Knights, who single-handedly brought victory over again and again with his strategies and tactics alone.

Lelouch gritted his teeth as he clenched his hand around the grip of the iron dagger stuck in his body and pulled it out to the gasps of all who saw the wound rapidly closing. The tattoed woman stared with a mad gleam in her eyes as she whispered, "Azor Ahai." Ah, religious fanatics.

He ignored her and raised his dagger, pointed at the dark slave who was definitely trained for war. "Get the key. Unlock all. The armour yours. Now slaver." Tried as he might, speaking fluidly in High Valyrian was a little complicated. His only teachers were illiterate villagers and a little girl. The Dothraki didn't count as their vocabulary only extended as so far to insult the enemy.

Fortunately, he got a nod from the dark slave who went to pat the corpse, searching for the key which he found around the neck of the dead guard. After unlocking his chains, he threw the key to Lelouch who did the same to his chains. The key went around the group until all were free of chains.

A little glance to the dark man, he saw how the man would resemble a guard in employment of the slavers. With the sword in his hand, he was an intimidating sight.

"Now. Free. No slaves. Fight." He halted the cheers that he knew were coming by raising his fist.

He turned to the 'guard', "Your name?"

"Xarros." An exotic name for sure.

His eyes surveyed the men and women who could possibly fight. "Five. Man. Woman. With me." - He turned his head slightly to the side - "Xarros, slaver. Play. Lead. Others. Free them."

Two women stepped up, including the religious fanatic. The other one was a strange one with a scared face, yet her body was relatively muscular, broader and taller which made her an intimidating sight with her hulking frame over him.

He hoped her muscles weren't just for show.

The other three men were all Dothraki; he could recognize these braids anywhere. Well, even without the Horse, they should be able to fight even better as the guards who didn't even see war.

His strategy was a simple one, after all, the simpler, the better he could change it on the fly if some unforeseen variables popped up.

Thus deception was the first condition which he had in form of an actor who would play the guard. The surprise was an important factor for it to work smoothly.

The second condition was to arm them all or at least all who knew how to use a weapon to kill.

Third condition: Convince them all to revolt. That was easy enough with his immortal body. He would give them hope they all desired. And for the slavers cold steel.

The last of all conditions was crucial. His words must echo in their very souls. It must free them of their psychological chains. Unfortunately, the language barrier would prevent that. However, there was a far simpler alternative. Mimics and gestures. His approach would be called for theatrics the likes of his other persona, Zero.

Then, only then was the stage set for the new appearance of Zero.

The next steps after that would be simple enough. To conquer a ship from the hands of a superior enemy, one would need to reach the food storage. After all, an army did not march on empty stomachs. The enemy commander would realize that too, which meant it would be a race between them.

Lelouch's grin widened as he continued the trail of thought. A natural bait. The perfect opportunity to trap the enemy. He would need to send a group of disguised guards in the location where all food was stored. He would herd them like good little animals for the slaughter.

He looked to Xarros who had a grim face. "Lead. Now. We follow. Slaves."

Xarros gave him a wide grin, showing his foul teeth like a proud peacock, strode to the door.

"Stay. Use chain. Kill. Slavers." With his last command given, he followed his 'guard' with his fellow 'slaves'. He knew that the freed slaves were intelligent enough to use the chain as an improvised weapon which to be fair was actually a very lethal use.

As he followed Xarros' lead to the other slave quarters, he took a brief sniff and promptly distorted his face into an ugly grimace as the smell invaded his nose. Bathing was definitely needed. A luxury for now.

He nodded at his fellow 'slaves' who played the role convincingly with a submissive pose.

His eyes took every last detail of the corridor. Two guards. Close to each other. Narrow corridor. Six doors each side. Maximum twelve. If he assumed every quarter held twenty slaves, it would mean that 260 slaves were onboard the whole ship.

Lelouch had his suspicions on why all slaves were separated in quarters with a group dedicated to rowing while others... well, he often heard the term pleasure slave in his time in the Dothraki Horde. Although, it made sense to separate for many other reasons. Diseases.

However, he was a cynical person. He trusted the evil within humans more than the good in them which was the reason why he took all the hate on himself to create peace.

If it was a quarter which task was rowing, two guards were considered enough. After all, chains were the second security measure before the first which was the rowing that exhausted the body completely.

But... if the quarter was reserved for the fleshly pleasure...

His hands balled into fists, yet he continued in the direction of the thought.

On the other hand, the guards' pants would be literally down. Advantageous for his group.

He whispered, "First. Kill. Two guards." He didn't need to check if all understood. They weren't mentally retarded.

Xarros' lead them in front of the two guards who stood in front of another door with a lock.

Lelouch gripped the dagger as he positioned himself left close to the other guard while Xarros' left hand gripped the sword pommel in preparation. He nodded to Xarros who in response changed his grip fluidly to the handle and pulled it fast out -

He turned his head to the guard who was in the process of unsheathing his, but unfortunately fumbled a little which gave Lelouch time to stab his dagger into the neck. The guard went gurgling gently down with the help of Lelouch.

He looked at Xarros and saw the sword sticking into the guard's gut while his right hand was clasped over the mouth, silencing the screams.

The armour and weapons were taken by the hulking woman and a man who had the longest braid of all three Dothraki. He could have been a Bloodrider which would be certainly strange to see him here as a slave.

He asked, "Dothrakhqoyi?"

"Dothrakhqoyi." A statement. At his raised eyebrow, the dothrakhqoyi answered, "Revenge for Khal." Well, that made sense.

Another sniff and he discovered the reason for such slow responses from the two now dead guards. Drinking while guarding was an offence in every military army, well, at least the modern ones. Although to be fair, these were possibly mercenaries. Discipline wasn't often the image others would see in a mercenary. In medieval times more so.

Now, he had three 'guards' who could separate into three entities who would free the slaves, yet it was too risky as the number of guards in each quarter was unknown. He estimated that it wouldn't exceed over five if it wasn't a pleasure quarter. Decisions. Decisions.

Lelouch knew he was arrogant, alright. His immortality didn't help his humble self at all. However, he didn't like unknowns. Lesson upon lessons pertaining to ignoring unknown variables because of arrogance developed his cautious side. Painful lessons, even some taught by his old friend, Suzaku.

He did not need to take the risk at this early stage of the plan. It just wasn't worth. Time was on their side at the moment so long the deception lasted.

"One. Go back. Call. Men. Women. Lajak. Guard." He gestured to the door where the two corpse laid. The three Dothraki looked to each other. He knew already that the Bloodrider would decide the one who would do the given task. Ah, of course, the braid which was shorter than the other would take the task. A convenient selection method.

With that out, he nodded to Xarros who understood the next course of action.

Xarros took them to the closest door where suspicious noises sounded out. Lelouch could make out the grunting and slapping. It was obvious.

Besides him, the hulking woman's face was even scaring him as her grip on the sword was hard enough for her knuckles to whiten. The two Dothraki meanwhile didn't show disdain, instead, he noticed the eager look of the Dothraki with shorter braid while the Bloodrider didn't seem to care at all.

This one was a dangerous element to his -

His hand grabbed onto the arm of Xarros, stopped him from pushing the door. Xarros turned his head and glared at him.

He, himself, wanted to kill these disgusting slavers, yet his cautious side warred with the other bloodthirsty one.

What would happen if they stormed the quarter?

The surprise would only last for the first kill. Or the first three kills. Ignoring the dangerous element at his side, his kill added would make it to first four kills. The number of guards was unknown.

He took a deep breath as he listened to the noises, trying to separate them to discern how many guards were raping. Even as his stomach flipped, he continued.

His mind went over the theory of sound to distract him from the uneasy thoughts.

Noises were vibrations going through matter like sound waves in physical terms. A sound wave moved in a longitudinal wave - compression and decompression of air - in other words: a pressure wave. Air slowed the speed down to four times that of water as its characteristics allowed sound to travel fast from one point to another. That meant gas was four times slower than liquid which it itself four times slower than solid matter. Less resistance meant waves were more easily generated. The solid matter like the wooden door made filtering each sound harder.

Lelouch signalled for Xarros to be silent as his ear rested on the door, touching the hard wooden material.

The reason for the difficulty was that sound travelling from gas to solid matter, like in this case: air to wood, would mostly reflect.

Yet it wasn't impossible, after all, the brain of a human was ingenious.

He closed his eyes and focusing while ignoring everything else but the noises in the quarter.

Selective auditory attention or for short selective hearing was the action of exclusively focusing on the sound one wanted to hear. As his biology teacher once said: It was the ability to acknowledge some stimuli while ignoring other stimuli occurring at the same time. The brain could never process all sensory information as it was simply too much which meant only the important ones were processed. A capability to block out all unnecessary sounds and noises.

Practices made the master. He practised it thoroughly together with Nunnally, after all, she could only use her auditory sense besides her touching.

Through closing his eyes and focusing on one particular type of noises, he could create a virtual bottleneck to process the noise he wanted. A very delicate process.

A grunt. One.

"Līve..." Whore.  
Another one.

"...Rene." Slut.  
Three.

Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Nothing more. They would only need to kill eight guards who were raping slaves. He had the advantage if he waited for the others to come.

Unfoturtanely, there was a problem with the slaves who would certainly scream out in fear, yet it was also fortunate that it was a pleasuring quarter which removed the suspicion so long the other guards could recognize the female scream.

"Wait. Others. Eight guards. There. Need more lajak." His tone was flat which broke no arguments, even as he saw some stiffened.

He reiterated, "Wait. Order." The Dothraki with shorter braids glared at him for daring to get into his fun. He held the stare without compromise.

The Bloodrider's sword touched the tanned skin of the Dothraki, drawing little blood. It stopped the dangerous element from doing something foolish. Well, apparently he held the respect of the Bloodrider who gave a nod, acknowledging him as another Dothraki worth riding with into battle.

The steps of the reinforcement hurried to them.

Lelouch said, "Need four lajak. All women. Use chain. Strangle. Enemy." His four women positioned themselves behind him. They also heard the noise.

He could see the fury clearly on the faces. That was the reason why he chose the other gender. Women would focus on killing them, letting the anger out on a corpse.

On the other hand, the disadvantage was that the anger would need to be controlled. "Be silent. Control. Kill." At his words, the women in the strike team all nodded with determined mines, shadowed by clouding anger in the eyes.

Xarros looked at him. He nodded. The door was pushed open.

The sight was disgusting, yet he didn't let it distract him as he followed his 'guard'. The other guards looked only for a fraction of time until they continued doing the disgusting deed while ignoring them completely.

All of them went to their targets. He showed three fingers. Two. One.

His dagger found its home into the naked flesh while his other hand clasped around the guard's mouth. The coppery smell was a welcome distraction to the other stenches. Some females screamed.

No visible cues of detection. A calculated risk he took which paid off.

His eyes wandered to the others, seeing four women strangling the guards with the chain alone, lifted his spirits -

Lelouch stalked furiously to the Dothraki who he already considered a dangerous element, which he now considered an enemy. The decision was taken out of his hand as the hulking woman beheaded him partially. He died gurgling in his own pool of blood on the ground beside the slave he tried to rape.

Dothraki. Savages.

He held already disdain before he met them, after his time in a Dothraki Horde, he was completely disgusted by them.

"Xarros. Continue. Free other slaves." He sat down, exhausted physically and mentally. He watched as the four women exchanging the chains with the swords and armour while the religious fanatic calmed down the freed female slaves. She whispered, "Azor Ahai." Again with the religious title.

Lelouch's curiosity was stroked as he heard, "...Temple." It appeared he was on the right track as it was indeed connected to a religion. Could it be that he was something of a prophet? That would be... ridiculous.

In the end, he didn't waste more time to consider the importance of the title as the slave quarters needed to be cleared of all guards. The once pleasure slaves were freed.

He hadn't heard her name, the name of the tattooed woman. He had the feeling that she was a priestess. The tattoos gave it away. He assumed she belonged to some religious cult.

Lelouch shrugged his shoulders.

"Azor Ahai." The freed slaves looked at him, definitely more than simple admiration. The religious gleam was very distinctly.

As interesting as it was, they needed to make haste as a medieval person would say.

Out of the pleasure quarter, he could finally breathe again. Fortunately, Xarros obeyed his command to the letter as he saw more than 200 slaves cramping in the narrow corridor.

His eyes went back to Xarros who stared at him, waiting for his new orders. No, he wasn't the only one; every freed slave stared at him. He could see the hesitation miles away, yet there was more, a little flower of hope blooming the dark pit.

Lelouch clenched his fingers around the hilt, raised the dagger high and plunged it into his heart. With a growl, he cut his chest open. The heart was for all to see. With the left hand, he grabbed a hold of it, feeling the unbearable pain, yet he did not stop.

He bit his tongue, holding back the screams which threatened to consume him as he threw his heart to the ground. It continued to pump. He stomped onto it like it was some insect.

The reactions varied. He was being stared at. His wound closed. A miracle. He delivered them proof of hope.

All kneed in front of him on the ground with whispers of, "Azor Ahai." Heads bowed. More than a sign of respect. A sign of utter submission.

"I am Azor Ahai. Free all slaves. We." He struggled a little, trying to find the right words.

"Need lajak. Food storage. Conquer." At his words, more than fifty stood up.

"All. Dark men. Play. Guard. Go food storage. Kill the guards. Silent." Armour and weapons were exchanged.

"Go. Now." The disguised lajak as guards obeyed.

Every condition was set. Now the next stage of the plan to conquer the ship: Lure the enemy into an ambush.

The food storage room would play the natural bait to lure the enemy while the trap would be the narrow corridor. He could already guess that it was correct to assume as most ships were built in the same way. His visit to the famous Britannian museum helped him to determine that.

His thoughts strayed far away from Nunnally.

In these narrow corridors, the enemy numerical superiority was useless. The Spartans were proof of that in the Battle of Thermopylae, even if it was exaggerated. Fact was: Numbers won't matter in a narrow pass.

On the other hand, it could also be that the enemy didn't even have the numbers to break the slave revolt. He knew arrogance very well. He could even smell it miles away. The stench of the slavers. They trusted on fear alone.

He had three possible options:

First, barricading the food storage wouldn't really work as he had too many to fit into the storage. Perhaps a barricade of the entrance would work.

Second, luring the enemy into the narrow corridor to force them into a disadvantageous battle by attacking the rear and the head.

Third, storming every quarter while using the numerical superiority to overwhelm smaller units.

Lelouch would pick the first or second options, but a thought stopped him from choosing them. Where was the ship at the moment? Was it close to a dock? All unknown variables.

The first and second options were all based on these unknowns which meant he discarded them instantly. Too many unknowns involved would destabilize the plan. In other words, the chance of failure would increase.

He decided.

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 **Author's Note:**

 _I hope the information wasn't too much. Well, as I edited it, I thought to exclude that part, but another thought struck me: It served as a distraction for Lelouch darker thoughts and Lelouch's mind goes often in a tangent.  
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 _I hope I paced it correctly. Well, it's a little slow, but well you decide._

 _Also, use the insults in your daily lives:_ _Līve, Rene.  
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 _And of course, tell me what you liked, or not liked._


	4. Odyssey

**Author's Note:**

 _Some time skips to jump over unecessary portions._

 _Now believe it or not, Lelouch is quite the moral character. His whole demaenor is a mask. His quotes showed his inner self. The most damning evidence was his guilt over Shirley._

An excerpt out of the oxford dictionary:

 **amoral (adj.)**

Lacking a moral sense; unconcerned with the rightness or wrongness of something.

example: _'an amoral attitude to sex'_

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 _His whole life was shaped by the amoralessness of his father's decision. Season 1 showed his whole character shifting to the darker side as we see him sacrificing others for greater gain, yet... in season 2 it changed throughly. He played the matyr in Zero Requiem.  
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 _What was his real character? The man behind the mask or the man in front of Nunnally and his friends. Certainly, he accomplished great evils for his sister, but would he strip himself of all morals because she isn't there anymore? Do you think Lelouch such baseless? Do you believe him to be such simple minded human?_

 _As much as he saw himself as the devil, his goal for world peace was quite idealized. Although, the whole point is moot as everyone can derive for himself the interpretation of Lelouch. Be it moral or not.  
_

 _We could continue the discussion if you send me a private message as the review function in ffn is impeding (perhaps Lelouch could be discussed in a forum)._

 _Thank you all for the not so useless feedback. It was constructive that it helped me in writing this chapter, so without much further ado: have fun reading the chapter._

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 **Odyssey**

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Lelouch gripped the railing, near hugging it as the ship shook. He looked down, saw his reflection on the surface of the restless water; same old face, but with the mark on his forehead. He looked up and saw the ominous clouds warring as lightning slugged into the sea like a furious Zeus. His eyes swung ahead of the bow of the ship. The sea exploded in motion, revealing the devouring mouth that swallowed the lightning strikes.

A deathmatch. Zeus versus Poseidon. A Civil War. Rebellion. A term derived from the Latin verb rebellō which meant: "I renew war."

The symbolism, he found it indeed fitting. The stage was prepared at least. The props ready.

He was now the captain of a meagre slaver's ship which resembled the Trireme, yet only had two banks of oars, instead of the traditional three. In that case, the designation would be bireme, which literally translated from ancient Greek to two-rowers. However, to think that it was a small ship would be an inept observation as the ship was big enough to carry more than 200 humans. The downside was obviously the slow speed. A medieval galley would probably be a better description, but still -

"Captain!" He turned to the side, looking at Leja, even as the rain splattered on his freezing skin which was already numb and impaired his sight, he could still see the hulking mass of the tall woman at the stern.

She was one of the women and men who steered the vessel or tried to; as strong as they were, they could only control the ship with the traditional steering oar. The pressure of the waves worked against them.

In science, this phenomenon was labelled Hurricane which was part of a family of storms on Earth. It was mother nature's work of moving heat from the equator to the poles. An analogy would be the car engine which would need fuel to work. In this case, the heat from the ocean air was the fuel which converted into energy for the powerful winds and waves to grow.

"Azor Ahai, it is ready." The voice of Kinvara, the tattoed woman brought him out of his musings. She was indeed a priestess, he had learned. A Red Priestess, she called herself.

As much as he would want to watch the spectacular show of natural power, his ship was unfortunately caught in the storm. Already, a plan was in motion which would hopefully help them to escape the wrath of Zeus. He detested trusting in something as vague as Magic of all things, but science didn't help him much in this situation. After all, his ship was something out of a movie set in ancient Greek which wasn't very famous for its survivability in storms.

He shouted over the cracking thunder, "Begin the ritual!" He gritted his teeth as he trembled in the cold embrace of high rising water.

What he had in mind to survive the hurricane would be ludicrous for a scientist, yet the Red Priestess of R'hllor could invoke the power of the Lord of Light, their god. Firemagic of all things. However, as he was taught the theory behind, he noticed that it wasn't only fire that could be controlled but heat itself.

Lelouch's plan was relatively simple as long as they've had enough slavers to sacrifice in the soon burning pyre on the deck. The ritual would establish a connection to the heat of the storm and through the hands of R'hllor, it could be manipulated. The heat was the fuel which meant no heat, no fuel. In other words, the ritual would sap the energy of the hurricane which would weaken it so much that they could steer away from it, even with the pathetic ship.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the heat of the burning pyre washed over him, fighting the cold out of his body. He really wouldn't want the cause of his death to be Hypothermia. He smiled ruefully, probably better than to be stabbed by his friend at least.

Kinvara spread her arms, intertwining her hands with the woman right and left beside her who did the same with others besides, creating a human chain. "īlon, pāsābare, call upon R'hllor to paghagon the perzys!"

He muttered, "We, faithful, call upon R'hllor to breathe the fire." The low hum of the chant changed as the first slaver to sacrifice was thrown into the flames which engulfed him completely while his screams lasted only seconds.

His eyes caught the first sign of change in the tumultuous sky. The rotation slowed to a crawl as the sacrifices continued to feed the fire. The winds and waves calmed down.

His thoughts went to the flames on his deck, fortunately, Kinvara could control the fire in such fashion that it wouldn't damage their fledging vessel, else the storm would be the least of their problems. Essentially, a high-risk gamble, he often played, yet sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures. Although, Kinvara showed him her talents with fire which convinced him, in the end, to use her for his plan.

"Xarros! The compass!" An instrument which the ex-captain and generally everyone in the world did not have as it was seemingly not developed. The compass didn't exist, so he used an iron nail and hammer to craft himself an improvised compass without the use of a magnet as it wasn't in the items they had in storage.

It was a simple process as he just needed to strike against the iron nail with the hammer for several times while orienting the nail in the north-south direction. The hammer strikes would destabilize the magnetic domains within the nail which would then cause the magnetic field to reposition the domains after the Earth's magnetic field. Now, although, he wasn't on Earth, every planet with life had a magnetic field to protect it and that external factor was needed to create the improvised compass.

Finding North was complicated, more so that he wasn't on Earth. Normally, he would only need to use the sun on the horizon and the time to calculate its axis to get the direction of North, however as he did that he noticed the discrepancies like how time elapsed. For example, a minute wasn't sixty seconds. That alone confirmed his suspicions.

Fortunately, Kinvara gazed in the fire to ask for direction weeks ago. Literally. He was at first sceptic, after all, asking a god was ridiculous. Yet, he could only trust her answer; or her god. And she used the time he spent with her to try converting him to her Red Religion. He assumed that the god she worshipped was part of the collective human unconsciousness of this world.

Lelouch gripped the bowl securely with his fingers from Xarros' massive hands. He observed how the nail spun around until it settled on a direction.

He called out, "North! This way!" His arm struck out in the direction. His steering rowers saw that and obeyed. The ship lurched as it changed its course sharp left, away from the gradually calming storm. They were a disciplined lot, coordinated to the bone as the necessity was a very good teacher.

"Melisandre! Attend to the bowl! Take care that we follow North!" He saw that she was staring into the flames, yet at her called name, she came over to him with a happy smile. With trembling hands, he handed the bowl over to her who stared amazed at the nail. As he first crafted it, she called him a sorcerer for his work, even as he tried to explain the science behind it.

His mind wandered to the day he saw that which science couldn't explain. Fire out of thin air as if she had conjured it with nothing but strange words; incantations. Her hands moved while the fire in the air followed the pattern. Impossible, as much as he might deny it, his skin felt the heat. He admitted that Geass was something out of a fairytale, however, it was grounded in reality as he used it many times, successfully or not. He even saw the World of C, yet this little Magic spooked him.

Did she have a Geass? If she did that would mean there was another code bearer in this world. No, she couldn't have a Geass as such control over the fire wasn't a trait he ever saw in other Geass. Even in the research facility of the Geass Order, there wasn't something so physical. And not to mention the telltale sign of a Geass - the red flapping bird - was missing.

It stumped him honestly. "H-How?" She smiled at him serenely.

"The Lord of Light gifted me." He narrowed his eyes at her.

She turned slightly, showing him her bare naked skin. He glanced at the black ink on her hips, running down her legs.

"R'hllor marked me." Her eyes stared into his with a mad gleam in the same vein of Mao's madness.

With a grimace, he asked, "The champion of R'hllor is Azor Ahai?" Even as he already deduced the answer, he feared the confirmation.

She smiled. "Yes. Kinvara belongs wholely to Azor Ahai, the champion of R'hllor." He didn't like her smile one bit.

He stated. "You saw it in the fire." Her smile widened. Precognition hurt his brain. "And what task would I need to accomplish?"

"Darkness will come and consume all." He raised an eyebrow, finding the vague threat amusingly.

"I assume that I will lead humanity against this extinction level threat." At her nod, he continued. "How much time do I have?"

Her gaze went to the fire which flames swayed restlessly. He observed how her iris widened considerably as if she took Refrain. He grimaced at that. He tried to use that drug once to escape reality. He was foolish. Fortunately, Kallen's hand took him out of the foolishness.

Her empty voice shook him out of his thoughts. "The Darkness will sleep for centuries to come." He smirked.

At least, he had centuries to prepare.

"Who exactly is the enemy?" He would need to know more about them to plan ahead.

"The dead ones. They shall rise in the Far North. Every dead body shall be added into the ranks." His smirk vanished.

As much as he wanted to scoff at the notion of the dead walking, he knew that the danger was at least real. However, he wouldn't trust a god which meant he would need other sources of information.

Lelouch turned to the map laid on the table. It was crudely drawn. The map was inherited from the dead slaver whom he slit the throat. A black line was drawn onto it, leading to a landmark which was a city called Volantis. He used the Chip Log, which was a knotted rope attached with a weighted wood panel to the reel, to measure the speed of the ship by throwing it into the sea and counting the number of knots that went into the sea by a given time interval.

And with the entries in the logbook, he could draw the distance on the map with his calculations. It was simple as he deduced the distance through the logbook while the speed was measured with the improvised device. In other words, to get the time, he divided the distance by speed which got him two months or two moons in High Valyrian. Well, the ship was at the speed of measly five knots. At least, the proviant was enough to last them four months with his issued order for rationing.

He grimaced as his thoughts strayed to the food situation. He remembered the day clearly as it was yesterday.

As his hands felt the foul meat, he threw it to the ground.

"Do we not have salt at all?" At his question, everyone looked bewildered.

Melisandre asked, "What's salt?" Curiosity was written on her adorable face.

"What would salt accomplish, Azor Ahai?" He looked at the red priestess incredulously.

"You're not kidding." He cursed the World of C.

"Xarros, get some men who will gather water in buckets." With his order given, Xarros went to accomplish the task.

While he turned to Kinvara whom he learned could control fire. He scoffed, not believing it for one moment. "Kinvara, if you can control fire, use it to heat the water until it boiled." She bowed her head.

To the bloodrider, he said, "dothrakhqoyi, watch her carefully. I do not trust her."

A hand brought him out of the past. He turned his head and saw the concerned face of Kinvara, the Red Priestess who used her gifts to heat up the water to the boiling point. At first, he chalked it up to something science could explain, but now that she showed her full powers here in front of him, he did not think science would help him explain that at all. He admitted that there were probably powers beyond Geass.

"We first need to arrive in Volantis." His first order of business would be to arm his men and women.

"I shall summon the priests and priestesses the instant we arrive." Of course, he would need to have the necessary knowledge to form a strategy which he would get through Kinvara's connection to the Red Temple, the place of worship for the religion of R'hllor.

He said, "I need books. Bring me them while you will discuss my apparent status."

"It shall be done, Azor Ahai." The unnatural devotion creeped him out, even if it was very useful to him.

Time was on his side -

"Lelouch." He let go off the railings as the storm subsided, turned around to Melisandre who held the bowl in her chest like a Teddy bear which she hugged. It brought a smile involuntary out of him.

"Is something the matter, Melisandre?"

She answered, "The sky." He looked up and saw the monstrosity. He never thought to see a dragon flying in the sky. As much as he would want to believe the hearsay of the Red Priestess, he would only believe in that which he confirmed with his very own eyes.

"Zaldrīzes." A whisper.

He muttered, "The Valyrian Freehold." Volantis was a colony of the Valyrian Freehold, the dominant power in Essos, one of the continents, which was ruled by noble families who had the ability to ride dragons. It sounded like it came fresh out of fantasy. Dragonrider, what nonsense he thought initially, yet the dragon he saw had a rider on its back. The dragon was an ugly black creature with wings that spanned so wide it encompassed their little ship in its shadows; it covered the sun.

The Valyrian Freehold used slaves for the labour like the Romans did in the history of Earth. If they had access to dragons, it would mean they also had access to magic. Indeed, a powerful enemy.

Essentially, the Valyrians had air superiority.

He couldn't help himself as he laughed; cackling like a madman. He couldn't obviously fight the Valyrian Freehold head on. Did he even need to fight them? Yes. Slavery was a sin he wouldn't accept. But the dragons would be useful in the coming apocalypse. Although he had time to advance technology considerably, he could certainly use dragons. Perhaps, he could steal some eggs. Anything was possible.

There was another reason why slavery wouldn't work for long. The Romans did that and it broke them including other factors. It was in the end wasteful. Actually, as much as he tried to convince himself that all his reasons were logical, he had another. His Geass showed him the truth of complete submission. Euphemia. He hated it. He essentially enslaved her. It wasn't even needed. The same with slavery which would not be needed in the future to come.

Lelouch sighed and felt a hand grabbing on his tunic. He looked down and saw the blinking wide eyes of Melisandre.

"Azor Ahai!" His view changed to Kinvara who was already close. It surprised him a little because he hadn't heard her steps at all.

"I've looked through the eyes of R'hllor and saw pirates attacking us."

He just asked, "When?" When will they attack?

"In ten days." As he opened his mouth to ask another question, she answered it as if reading his mind, "Near Volantis." If they would attack them near Volantis, that would mean the ruling family of Volantis sanctioned pirates. Which meant he couldn't escape the pirates so easily.

"How many ships?" He would need to know the actual numbers of the enemy to formulate a plan.

"Two ships with the same size as this ship." He could assume that they also used rowers.

Kinvara looked at him little hesitantly before she told him. "I spoke with the high priests in Volantis." His eyes widened a little. "He consulted with others and suggested that it shall be a test."

He stated. "They did not believe you. They do not believe me." She bowed her head in shame.

Lelouch was a little annoyed. Of course, nothing would go smoothly. Religion wasn't devoid of politics. It stood to reason that some high priests would clink onto their power, guarding it like jealous nobles that feared others who would deprive them of that.

As he saw her submissive, quite fearful stance, he said, "I won't punish you. After all, it is natural that mortals lust for power."

"Of course, my prince, they will in time come to see your greatness." He hid his grimace behind a smooth mask of a smirk. Her devotion wasn't healthy. It chilled his bones.

"Lelouch, I'm hungry." Her pout was devasting. Her small fingers twisted the fabric of his tunic as she tried to drag it to her. His eyes searched for help as he looked to Kinvara whose smile mocked him.

"Lelouch." Another pull. He looked down. Pout. Wide eyes. Tears.

In the end, he gave up and sighed, "Alright. Kinvara, give her something to eat." It was his privilege as a captain to assign extra rations to his crewmembers. It wasn't really a problem as they had enough food to keep them from starving and Volantis wasn't far anymore.

Her tears vanished while her pout transformed into a bright smile, giving him the impression that he was played which he wasn't, definitely not.

"Xarros! We will take a break. Gather everyone on the deck." He nodded.

Lelouch looked up and watched with a serious mine as the dragon spat fire in the sky. After a while, he stopped watching and walked with a steady gait to his destination: the food storage. His plan would call for a little bit of alcohol which he had in quantity.

The children ran around, disturbing some of his guards while making a nuisance to others like the Bloodrider whose mine was expressionless as some little girls surrounded him.

He cracked a small smile as he heard, "Please! Let me fly! I'm not fat!"

"Me too!" Another girl hugged the bloodrider's leg. He could see the face softened slightly. Well, apparently the Dothraki had a soft spot for children.

He saw him carry a girl on his shoulders whose happy expression told him everything. He gave the Dothraki a nod as he passed him and the children.

The wooden floor creaked as his leather boots made contact with it. On his way to his destination, people bowed to him while whispering, "Azor Ahai." As much as he liked the deference, the religious fervour made him uncomfortable. Fanatics were after all a dangerous bunch. Rowdy too. They must be controlled with an iron fist or his own words would work against him.

His mind went over the plan to distract him from the fanatical mutter. Normally, wine or alcoholic drinks weren't enough to build a Molotov cocktail. It was misleading to think such drinks would accomplish a working petrol bomb. Molotov cocktails were mostly created by pouring gasoline or pure ethanol into a glass bottle, then putting a cloth piece which would be used to ignite the flammable substance. The Japanese resistance made enthusiastic use of that.

He would need the alcohol to be in the range of over 50 per cent or 100 proof (200 was pure alcohol) to use it as a flammable substance. It stood to reason that grain alcohol would be very effective.

The guards in front of the food storage stepped aside as they saw him coming. Lelouch opened the door. His nose was promptly invaded by the thick aroma of spices. He coughed a little.

He made his way fast to the wine. He did not want to stay any longer. He didn't like the smell at all. He took out a jug from the crate and took a brief sniff. He found the right crate as he could smell the alcohol.

"Guard, send Leja to me!" He couldn't carry the crate. Even the wine jug was heavy for him to hold it longer than necessary.

It didn't take much time for Leja to arrive. She leaned her upper body forward to pass through the door which was small for her tall body.

"Carry this crate" - He pointed at the crate filled with wine jugs - "to the deck." Leja obeyed.

He went ahead without waiting for her as he knew she wouldn't have any problems carrying a measly crate if she could row a steering oar alone. He was right. Her muscles weren't just for show. A very useful fighter whose loyalty he won through freeing her of the slaver's chain.

On the deck, he saw that everyone was gathered around a circle. All bend the knees after he arrived. The show of submission filled his ego, but it wasn't necessary.

"Rise!" His command was obeyed with little hesitation.

"Pirates." Silence. The faces he saw paled. Yet, he could detect hope amidst the eyes of them.

"Pirates will try to enslave us all once again." He paused, letting the uncomfortable silence stir their emotions.

He struck his right arm out in front of him and clenched his fist. "Our freedom was earned by fire and blood." He felt the change in emotions. Fury and anger dominated.

"I see in you all the fear, yet there's something more profound hidden in your deepest heart." They were all confused, yet curiosity conquered them.

His arms spread outwards to the side.

He quoted. "The human heart is the source of all our power. We fight with the power of our hearts." Nostalgia filled him while he recited it.

He smirked slightly as he saw the moral rising to new highs. The chants were deafened for his ears.

His arm rose with the palm open. The chants gradually calmed down. The crowd, as restless as they were, stopped chanting his religious title.

He turned to the crate on the ground and took out a wine jug. "Give me a piece of cloth." Leja cut off a piece of her tunic and offered it to him which he took.

"Kinvara, fire please." The cloth lit up as fire caught it. Lelouch put it in the wine jug. He waited until the fire spread.

And threw it with all the force he could muster into the sky. Three. Two. One. The jug exploded, flames spread like fireworks in the sky over the calm water. He heard the gasps of the watching crowd.

The next days were used to build a scorpion by cannibalizing the wood from the ship. The scorpion (or scorpio) was one of the famous and most used Roman field artillery pieces. It was a type of Roman torsion siege engine that utilized the torsion to launch projectiles. The torsion was the twisting of an object due to an applied torque which was the rotational force. Torsion siege engines were developed by the ancient Greeks whom the Romans copied. The Romans were pretty much influenced by the ancient Greeks and other cultures.

The torsion spring was basically an iron coil which they got by cannibalizing two daggers with the help of Kinvara while the coiling was done by Leja.

The launchpad was a leather piece made with the help of the females who had the trade.

His strategy was to use the scorpion to combat the two pirate ships from the distance. After all, if he could defeat his enemies without ever closing in, he would do it.

Lelouch watched as the Bloodrider cranked the scorpion and loaded it with a fruit. He aimed and pulled the trigger. The fruit sailed far enough for his strategy to succeed. The Bloodrider would need to work on his aim, but the loading was satisfactory for the purpose.

"Your genius is without match, my prince." The soft voice of Kinvara disturbed his silence.

"Of course, yet this test is nothing but a sham." Her silence was enough for him to conclude that she already knew of the corruption.

He said, "Perhaps, my title spread already to the Valyrians. I can certainly believe that the ruling family in Volantis would want me dead."

"You will show them the truth regardless, Azor Ahai." He sneered. It was in his best interest to eliminate his opposition. His enemies would be numerous alone for the religious title he got.

His eyes wandered to the windsock fixed on the mast. The wind favoured the direction which his ship steered to.

"Double time!" His command was repeated by Xarros who used the drum to sound out the command. It was an exercise for his rowers to accelerate. These last days were used to drill them harder than any slavers would have. The moral was high for such training.

A shout. "Captain!"

Lelouch looked to where the Bloodrider pointed. In the distance, he could recognize the outline of a ship. Slowly, another ship appeared on the horizon. It was time. The pirates found them. It seemed that someone wanted him clearly very dead. He wouldn't oblige to his enemies.

He looked back to the windsock and saw that the wind changed a little to the left.

He called out, "Portside!" The ship lurched as the steering oars worked in tandem. Leja repeated the command. "Portside!"

As the wind hit perfectly the sails, he shouted, "Halt!"

Now, the speed should be over seven knots which was quite fast for such a big ship. The pirate ships changed their course, trying to align to his, but the wind didn't favour them that much. The condition was set as predicted. With the speed, they would never catch up to him.

"dothrakhqoyi, fire on my mark!" He waited. He would need the enemy ship to be in the range of minimum 400 meters while the best accuracy would be achieved in 100.

700.

600.

500.

400\. He would need them to be closer to get an accurate shot.

350\. Closer.

300 meters. He shouted, "Fire!" The shot went far too wide. The blame laid on the moving ship.

"Double time!" 300 meters was far enough that the pirates wouldn't catch up while the scorpio could hit the pirates accurate enough.

Seconds later, the scorpio was loaded. He yelled, "Slow down!" The ship slowed drastically to less than five knots which was the same speed as the enemies' ships.

"Aim!" The Bloodrider obeyed and raised the scorpio a little higher.

Now. "Fire!" The jug flew in a parable. Three seconds. Two. One. Hit!

The first ship was engulfed in a fire. The flames spread quite fast with the help of the wind, even getting to the other ship as it sailed beside. The spectacle brought a cheer from his crew, even the rowers noticed the mood.

Well, that was quite easy. Too easy. The tension in his shoulders disappeared.

"Azor Ahai!" The chanting bellowed in his ears.

He smirked as he watched the flames devouring the ships.

The test, he passed with flying colours.

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 **Author's Note:**

 _Now that the timeline is vaguely established, Lelouch will write history literally. Religions were quite political, even to this day.  
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 _Again, tell me what you liked or what you don't liked. Opinions have some merit, although Tywin Lannister said it on point: A lion doesn't concern himself with the opinions of sheep._

 _Yes, some opinions won't have merit, well but that's for me to decide._


	5. Colonia

**Author's Note:**

 _As always thanks for the feedback. Enjoy the chapter.  
_

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 **Colonia**

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Lelouch vi Britannia felt his patience growing thin as he waited in the Red Temple. He stood in front of a huge stone bowl which had a giant flame as its resident. The heat wasn't very comfortable as he hated the hot temperature, after all, the weather in Essos was generally hot. Yet to move from his position was a show of weakness he could not afford in front of the crowd. He first assumed that they were servants, however, he remembered that the Red Religion used slaves. They call them slaves of R'hllor. They marked them like cattle; the justification wasn't even that good. The belief was that the life of the slaves belonged to R'hllor wholly.

He let the sneer appear on his face as he watched the flames flickering restlessly in the bowl while people dressed in red long robes moved around.

The high priests and priestesses were debating his apparent status which was a lie in itself. They let him stand like a peasant. It was an obvious power play. Even if his status would be recognized, this message - the whole show of domination - that was for him meant essentially that he would be just a puppet for them to direct. As if it was meant to humble him. What a joke.

He could smell the hypocrisy miles away. He wasn't a naive boy who insulted his father in front of his whole court in Pendragon. Not anymore at least. Everything was political. It was ingrained in the minds of humanity. Power for power's sake. Nothing more, nothing less.

He glanced slightly to the side and saw Melisandre staring at the flame totally fascinated. As much as he would deny, she grew to him in a certain fashion. Her antics lifted his spirit.

He was Lelouch vi Britannia, the Demon Emperor who destroyed the world and create it anew from the ashes of the past -

"Azor Ahai, the council will announce the decision. Please, follow me."

Kinvara led him and Melisandre to a giant hall. Slave warriors - the guards of the Red Temple - were positioned left and right with the spears ready in hand. He looked around and saw the admittingly beautiful aesthetics; a mix out of Greek and Roman architectures with little influence of Gothic similar to the churches in Britannia.

Marmor columns fixed the huge dome covered with greenish glass, giving the interior a mysterious greenlit illumination. The supporting pillars were ornamented with delicate sculptures of women with chokers while stone bowls with green fire replaced their faces.

Lelouch's eyes fixed on the middle of the whole hall. Around the giant stone bowl, stood the high priests and priestess while respectfully bowing their heads to the giant green violent fire. The shadows danced around the pillars, giving rise to monstrosities.

Melisandre was glued to him. He could feel her trembling body while she hugged him. His right hand rose and fell down on her little head, patting it very gently as he tried to comfort her. "It's alright." Her wide eyes laced with fear stared into his violet ones.

Kinvara whispered, "You stand in front of R'hllor." He already guessed it before.

He bent his knees, touching the cold polished marble ground while Melisandre did the same. He bowed his head for a moment. With his respect paid to the god, he asked softly, "What is the decision?"

"It was indeed foretold by R'hllor. We stand behind Azor Ahai's fire which carries the glory of our Lord. The taint of Valyrians shall be purged for once and for all!"

Lelouch suppressed his sigh at that. A political move. He was to be the symbol of a new crusade. No, not really. That was a very interesting move. Oh, he predicted something similar alright, but this was far too blunt for his tastes. They certainly wanted him dead. The fervent believer of the other religion which he assumed the Valyrians believed in, would all try to assassinate him. However, if he denounced the "Holy Crusade", it would weaken his title alone as it was apparently directly linked to the god's edict.

What a mess. A fine mess, indeed.

His lips twitched in amusement. He smirked. The smirk grew on his face. The maniac grin appeared. "I shall do as commanded by R'hllor." His words echoed through the hallowed hall.

A subtle glance to the head priest, he noticed the satisfied expression which was masked by a slight smile, but the eyes were the true gate into a soul. He deceived the High Priest with his convincing act. He would need to act very subtly to build his power base.

He had already a plan to undermine this moron who thought to control himself, the Demon Emperor. Such arrogance would need to be punished. All in good time.

His best bet was to divide the power of the whole council, let them war each other while he would infiltrate the foundation of the Red Temple. A la divide and conquer. Classical.

The High Priest called out, "Alysanne!"

"Azor Ahai, this servant of R'hllor shall lead you to your chamber." A slender girl who barely reached to his chest explained to him in a submissive manner more befitted of a slave than servant while her eyes had the fanatic gleam. Her hair glittered greenish in the light.

It reminded him of the Witch who set everything in motion. As quick as the light came, it vanished, giving way to her brown hair. A sad look passed over his face, after all, she was his only -

He felt his cold right hand squeezed by Melisandre's warm little hand.

"Azor Ahai, I have let the servants gather books in your room." Kinvara informed him in her usual soft voice.

"Thank you, Kinvara. Your efforts shall not go to waste."

"It is my duty, my prince." Her dedication was commendable and ultimately too useful to discard. "I serve R'hllor champion in everything and even" - Her breath hitched a little - "with my body if he so desires."

Lelouch fought very hard to remain expressionless. "Of course, but not today." She looked really disappointed at his refusal.

"Alysanne, lead the way." They followed her in silence.

His mind went over his possible assets. He had a ship to his name. He had a crew of rowers. He had guards, technically. They were at least loyal warriors with experience. He had salt. A compass. Molotov cocktails. And a scorpio.

Of course, magic was in his reach, now that he was in an institution whose members could use magic. Knowledge. Information.

Basically: A primitive transport vehicle. Luxury goods. Advanced tools. Men and women who would fight for him. A little political capital, although limited by the high priests and priestesses. Knowledge and information.

A good start capital for his venture in this Valyrian Colony. Although, it was more of a fortified trade harbour than a military outpost, even with soldiers patrolling every corner.

From what he had seen, the Valyrian Freehold was closer to the Romans than any other cultures, after all, the soldiers he saw marching in the streets where quite similar to the Roman legionaries. And, of course, the architecture of the buildings in the streets matched more that of the Ancient Roman architecture, certainly with a little twist like Gothic influences with the pointed arch.

The silence was disturbed as some Red Priestesses acknowledging him on the way to his chamber. "Azor Ahai."

As Alysanne led them through a pointed arch, he stopped and gripped the stone cold handrail of the balustrade. He looked down the streets. He really wouldn't want to jump down. Death was a certainty, but for him, he would remember the pain the most.

He saw a troop of guards patrolling the streets, a road plastered with stones like in Ancient Rome. His eyes fell onto the armour of the guards which was made up of metal strips that were cast into oval bands. The leather straps attached to the individual elements held the armour in place. The Lorica Segmentata. The segmented armour of the Roman Empire. The guards' helmets were the classical Galea of the Roman legionaries which glinted in the sun.

The metal was strange to say at least. He couldn't make head or tails if it was iron or steel.

Kinvara told him. "The finest Valyrīha legionarii of the Valyrian Freehold." He didn't turn to her and instead continued to observe them.

He asked, "What is the armour made of?"

"Valyrian steel." At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated. "If moulded into a blade, its sharpness is unrivalled. As an armour, it is weightless and indestructible."

Lelouch was sceptical. It couldn't be indestructible. It was definitely an exaggeration of the properties. Yet... in a world with dragons and magic, it stood to reason that there would be things which he couldn't explain with logic alone. At the moment, he was quite frankly uneducated, well, at least for the precise mechanics of this world.

Colourful masses of humans clothed in different tunics moved through the wide street. He even saw some who were dressed in Kimonos. The distinct flowery pattern dazzled Melisandre. "So pretty!"

The bright smile emitted from her, melted his heart as the resemblance was all too much. Nunnally.

To distract himself, he asked, "Where are these tunics with flowery pattern coming from?"

"A Yi Tish fashion style, from the further east of Essos. Does my master want it?" He grimaced a little as she called him a master.

Lelouch's fingers brushed against his simple red tunic which was made out of silk. He hummed in thought.

His tunic was grabbed by Melisandre who begged. "Please, Lelouch!" He didn't dare to look down.

Instead, he nodded.

"Azor Ahai." He could imagine her bow in respect before she went through the pointed arch and shouted, "Servant!"

He could faintly hear Alysanne speaking to the servant. "Fetch the tunics of the Yi Tish."

After Melisandre took her hands off him, he shifted the toga - which was said to be the chosen garment of Romulus - slightly. As the toga reflected the citizen's rank in Ancient Rome, so too reflected it his religious rank that of R'hllor's champion. The lighter shade of red complemented his darker tunic under it with the embroidery that was golden - in shapes of flames.

Lelouch relished in the sun as he closed his eyes for a moment. Honestly, his thoughts were in disorder. He couldn't just conquer a city and fight against the dominant power. Even if he had a grand army the likes of Napoleon who lost it in the cold, he surely would lose his army in the hot breath of the dragons.

He would need to fight battles where air superiority wouldn't matter at all.

Perhaps, he could do it like the generals of Ancient China.

One of the Thirty-Six Stratagems: Kill with a borrowed knife.

The enemy is too mighty for him to defeat in open battles, but he could perhaps use the might of discontent young Valyrian nobles to defeat the Freehold. He would change the Freehold from within like Suzaku tried with Britannia.

He chuckled at that. He ignored the curious looks he got and instead continued the train of thought.

Lelouch would need to charm a Valyrian Lady and use her as a Foothold to gain ground in the court. Although the Valyrian Freehold wasn't an Empire, it was also the farthest from a democracy. All freeholders had, in theory, a say in the governance, however, forty powerful noble families were, in the end, the true rulers. It made sense as these families were also the Dragonlords.

His next course of action, after he had enough knowledge to swim against the current, would be to integrate himself to a Valyrian Lady and show his usefulness to her. In time, he would be her only confident or even lover. It would be best if she was discontent but love was a powerful emotion bypassing all reasoning.

"Master, the Yi Tish tunic will be carried by the servants to the chamber." Alysanne's voice drew him out of his musings.

"What is that building, Alysanne?" She looked to where he had pointed.

"That is the Colosseo. The famous amphitheatre of the whole Valyrian Freehold. It was built by House Belaerys. The House who founded Volantis, the first colonia of the Valyrian Freehold."

Of course, the Roman similarities didn't just end there. Well, he hoped the forty families ruled like a Roman Senate.

He stated. "I assume the House Belaerys governs this colonia."

"Azor Ahai is wise." Obviously.

Kinvara said, "My prince, the plebeians speak of a conflict between the House Belaerys and the House Syndraenys." He hummed in thought.

Perhaps, the Syndraenys hired the privateers to disturb the flow of trade for House Belaerys. Certainly, a possibility. Such conflict was a perfect opportunity for him.

"Say Kinvara, is there a major war going on?"

She answered, "Small skirmishes at the border with the Rhoynar."

Lelouch couldn't help himself as he grinned fully. "Does House Belaerys accept mercenaries?"

"Yes, House Belaerys announced it moons ago, Azor Ahai." He could detect her confusion.

"I assume House Syndraenys wants to declare war on these Rhoynar while House Belaerys did not." At her nod of confirmation, he deduced that House Syndraenys hired the privateers with the goal to bait House Belaerys into a position where they would have to vote for declaring war or else they would be seen as weak. After all, being attacked was a blemish to one's reputation and more so if one did not defend it with steel; in this case, dragonfire.

He laughed. Masterful done. He clapped.

Kinvara had a puzzled look while Melisandre just stared inquisitively at him before she went to continue admiring the view.

The laugh dissipated, the smirk yet gone. It was only a question of time until a war would be sparked between the Valyrians and the Rhoynar. He would use that to advance his social position and build connections outside the Red Temple.

And with the religious title, he could call many to his arms for a Holy Crusade against the Rhoynar which he assumed had a different religion.

However, he would need to confirm that. "Kinvara, do the Rhoynar believe in R'hllor?" She shook her head sadly.

"Well then, it is time to light the path for these heretics." He spoke with zeal, immersing himself in the role of Azor Ahai, a pious champion who was the instrument of R'hllor.

Lelouch glanced slightly to Kinvara and could see the effects. She was captivated by the words. Her maniac grin couldn't be far off his own, only that his reasons were totally different. The religion was only a tool for him to advance his own agenda.

Yet, he was faced with doubts. Did he really need to lead humanity against the extinction? After all, he knew his sister inherited the peaceful world he created. But... He admitted to himself that he did not just create peace for his sister alone. The gentle world was ever present, it just would need to be weeded out of the stains.

Lelouch muttered in Japanese, "The goodness of human nature, huh." He realized it. As much as he would want to call himself a pragmatist, he was indeed quite an idealist.

He smiled wistfully as he said, "People will continue to seek happiness no matter how long it takes."

He had not fought for Nunnally alone, no, he fought for all the goodness that was hidden in humanity behind the stained glass. His look wandered to Melisandre whose jaw hung loosely as she watched the street performer surprising the crowd as they juggled torches.

This violent world, he would destroy it completely and create the everlasting utopia, he so wished for the good of all. That was his promise to Melisandre.

They lingered on the balcony while watching the humans moving around like busy bees until the sun went down and the moonlight shone through the streets which were illuminated by paper lanterns similar to the lamps of Ancient China.

Although, he noticed some oil lamps in between the masses of paper lanterns. How multicultural.

A sizzling noise in the sky made Lelouch curious. He looked up and saw the firework as it flew straight into the sky until it exploded in a colourful fashion.

"Oh!" Melisandre was quite taken by it.

Kinvara told them, "The Lion's blessing was invented by the Yi Tish alchemists who called themselves Daoists."

Gunpowder was within his reach. Or how the Daoist would surely call it: fire medicine. The formula for that was ten percent sulfur, fifteen percent Charcoal and seventy-five percent Potassium nitrate which was also known as saltpeter.

"The Lion's blessing?" He assumed that it was something religious or a reflection of the Emperor of Yi Ti.

"A tribute to one of the Yi Tish deities, Lion of Night." She told him with a straight face, yet he saw how her lips curled in distaste.

"Interesting." A different name for the firework was certainly interesting.

Melisandre shouted, "Dragons!" He squinted his eyes and saw the Dragonriders flying and performing loops to the delight of the little girl. Some dragons even spat fiery balls as they played tag with each other. The Dragonriders continued to perform until the show was stolen by a column of fire which rose into the sky and spread outwards into a dome.

Kinvara said in awe, "R'hllor's glory washed over us." He could feel the heat of the dome.

As quickly as it appeared, it vanished as if it was just an illusion. Yet, fireworks continued to lighten the sky up in different exotic colours. A beautiful display of wealth and power.

He deduced that the Dragonriders in the sky were vassals of House Belaerys as Volantis was obviously under their rule.

"Kinvara, arrange a meeting with House Belaerys."

"As you wish, Azor Ahai."

He looked to his side and saw Melisandre rubbing her blue eyes, obviously tired from the show. "Alysanne, lead the way."

The walk to their chamber wasn't as long as he feared it would be, fortunately, he really just wanted to lay on his bed and close his eyes.

The bed was cozy at least. He heard Melisandre sighing relieved.

Lelouch would have closed his eyes long ago if there wasn't someone standing beside the bed and staring at him.

He sighed. "Kinvara, what do you want?"

Her rosy cheeks were tinted slightly red as she answered, "I am ready to serve Azor Ahai with my body."

He felt a headache coming. "No." He had no energy to be polite at all.

Her disappointed look didn't change his mind as she walked like a hurt animal out of the chamber.

The sun rays announced the morning as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. The sleep did him good. He turned his head to the side and saw servants holding the red Kimono with a golden flame pattern.

Lelouch heard Melisandre stirring in her sleep. She hugged him fiercely while her finger clawed his body. The discomfort made him consider getting up the bed.

So he whispered, "Melisandre." At her name, her eyes opened slowly and she yawned. She blinked at his stare and said, "Lelouch, ñāqatubis!"

"Good morning." With that, he got up from the bed and the servants immediately surrounded him as they helped him in the Kimono. He didn't like that but it was better to endure it for a minute.

Kinvara informed him as they walked through the streets. "Azor Ahai, I have arranged a meeting with the representative of House Belaerys."

"Where and when will it be?"

"At the bathhouse at vōre ñāqatubis." Nine in the morning which was the equivalent of nine ante meridiem of the 12-hour clock.

The Valyrian Bathhouse was a remnant influence of the long gone Ghiscari Empire, one of the oldest civilizations that once ruled Essos.

Kinvara had read him the books hours ago as his grasp of High Valyrian wasn't high enough for that.

The Ghiscari Wars, Five Wars, were fought between the Ghiscari Empire and the rising Valyrian Freehold over the dominance of Essos. The Valyrians won the last war and destroyed the once proud Empire. The last cities of Ghiscari were reduced to colonies of Valyria while the population was enslaved as result for their defiance.

Alysanne lead them to the bathhouse while he watched the street vendors left and right, selling their beautifully crafted wares.

"Lelouch, please!" He smiled as he saw her pointing to a stand which sold necklaces with colourful stones.

He nodded at Alysanne who spoke with the vendor, "My master desires the ruby choker."

"Twelve sheep." It was the official currency of the Valyrian Freehold. A reminder of the heritage and a tribute to their ancestors.

After the transaction, Melisandre smiled happily with the choker tightly bound around her petite neck. The walk to the bathhouse continued.

Lelouch noticed slaves cleaning the streets with brooms while wearing a white tunic. He could faintly recognize the symbol of the Valyrian Freehold; a golden dragon surrounded by forty black sheep. The Valyrians were definitely proud of their ancestors, even if they were once shepherds. It certainly reminded him of the legends of Romulus, the founder of Rome.

These slaves were properties of the state, he realized. His mood was a little sombre but he didn't let it drag him down. He had promised himself that he would bring his ideal in the world.

They arrived at the bathhouse which was from the exterior quite similar to a Roman bathhouse. Servants of House Belaerys welcomed them. "Welcome to Belaerys' hot water." How interesting.

"Lady Belaerys already awaits you, Azor Ahai." He raised his eyebrows. Well, he didn't quite expect that, but it wasn't exactly a surprise as he heard some interesting rumours.

"Kinvara, watch Melisandre while I am meeting the representative." She nodded.

The bathhouse was huge. The interior was a giant hall. The giant pillars supported the small open dome. He saw statues of dragons around the massive pool. He felt the warmth as he touched the clear water.

"I hope it is to your satisfaction, Azor Ahai." The female voice greeted him at the end of the pool. He looked and saw her. The violet eyes stared back at him as he admired her silver-gold hair which was typical Valyrian.

"I am Jaenara Belaerys, the representative of House Belaerys you will speak to." She smiled at him gracefully.

He too smiled and said, "Please, call me Lelouch Lamperouge, champion of R'hllor." He hid his discomfort behind the smile. Both of them were naked in the water.

Jaenara Belaerys stared into his eyes, scrutinizing them and asked, "Are you of Valyrian blood?"

"Yes, my mother was a proud Valyrian." He lied without effort. In a negotiation, one would need to be on equal grounds or in a superior position to be successful. He predicted that she would change her conduct by seeing his eyes alone. It would give him an advantage he could press to gain leverage.

She smiled genuinely. "A cultivated man. I feared the Azor Ahai would be some barbarian."

"Please call me Jaenara."

"As you wish, my Lady," said Lelouch, "and of course you can just call me Lelouch in return."

She hummed a satisfied noise.

The instant she stopped humming, her smile vanished completely as she stared seriously at him. "I heard interesting rumours, Lelouch."

"Rumours of a Holy Crusade against the Valyrian gods." He smiled disarming at her and said, "Just rumours of zealous priests and priestesses."

"House Belaerys will not need to worry about such baseless rumours. My title is just that, a title for the common believers." She smirked at his chosen words.

"Why do you think I was chosen as the representative?" Of course, he was prepared for the meeting since yesterday. He knew why she was chosen for such a task which required delicate skills in a battle of words.

He hummed in thought.

"Perhaps, a punishment?" She disobeyed the Lord of the House in a childish fit. So the rumours said.

"Indeed."

The conversation fell into silence as he relished in the warm water. However, his mind raced at the clues she hinted. Jaenara began with the official negotiation that was asking him as the representative of the Red Temple if he was being serious with the Holy Crusade against the Valyrian belief. Then she tested his shadow knowledge.

Now, he would need to test the waters. "I heard the Rhoynars are being an annoyance at the borders."

"Oh, that they are." She confirmed.

He admired the stone dragons close to him. "War is an opportunity to gain glory."

"Glory is but a foolish dream."

"Yet, others acknowledge it." He countered.

She frowned.

Lelouch pushed on. "A Holy Crusade against the Rhoynar would soothe ruffled feathers."

She looked at him and said, "And what will House Belaerys get out of this?"

He stared into her eyes. "Not House Belaerys." - He paused - "But you, Jaenara, will get the might of the Red Temple."

Her eyes widened a little at his blunt words. "A-Are you serious?"

Lelouch smirked widely. "Of course."

In the end, she invited him officially to the Colosseo in the name of House Belaerys.

The Colosseo was, well, like he imagined the Colosseum of Ancient Rome would be. Massive rows of plebeians cheering the fighting gladiators in the pit while the nobles at better seats which were protected against the sun. He was with his entourage in the special booth with Jaenara Belaerys who held a greenish glass cup in her hand.

"The finest wine of the whole Freehold." He took a sip and felt the fiery hot taste. It burned his throat a little.

He couldn't suppress his cough which got a chuckle out of her. Damn. A ploy to make himself uncomfortable. To unbalance him.

"It tasted certainly much better."

"Who do you think would win?"

Lelouch concentrated on the fight in the pit. A spearman versus a swordsman. He predicted that the spearman would win if he could leverage the reach of his weapon while holding the swordsman at bay. However, if the swordsman could successfully get into the guard of the spearman, he would win.

"The spearman." She nodded.

The swordsman deflected a spear thrust, but the spearman just blocked the strike of the sword with the shaft of the spear. The spearman slid his grip closed to the spear point and used that to control the spear better in close quarters as the swordsman got into the guard. With a quick bash of the end of the spear shaft, his opponent laid on the ground, unconscious.

"I have thought about your proposal, Lelouch." He listened attentively.

"We can help each other out."

While smiling he said, "Naturally."

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 **Author's Note:**

 _Yes, G.R.R Martin did take a little inspiration from Ancient Rome for the Valyrians. So with that in mind, I built the world after my own image with the little clues he provided. The research that went into this chapter was certainly interesting._

 _I hope you liked my portrayal of the Valyrian Society. Of course, Volantis is an outpost at the border, so that's that for different cultures. After all, it is a trade harbour.  
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 _Well, politics. Intrigues. And war. This was to build up the foundation. Worldbuilding and character interactions.  
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 _You know the drill: Tell what you liked or don't liked._


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